Military Sisterhood

I was reading a discussion board on PCSing overseas and came across this post. As I got to the part about planting trees to never see them grow tall, and work on projects for the betterment of those who come after us, it made me a little emotional (which may be because I just had a baby and my hormones are still out of wack). We've been stationed here for over 3 years, been in 2 different battallions, saw one company get dissolved and another start up. I've said goodbye to good friends who have been like family, hello to new ones, developed a fantastic relationship with my brother-in-law and his wife, and experienced the birth of my 2 wonderful sons. I've lived in 2 different houses, taught in 2 school districts and worked very hard to use my experiences and knowledge to help the schools, principals, other teachers, and my students reach their goals...or at least help them get a few steps closer. I will not see the end results of so much that has been a part of my life. I will not see any of my students graduate, see my friends non-profit foundation grow, or the FRG transform into the the vision that I've been helping to work toward. As much as I have complained about Missouri, I am sad to be leaving all of the experiences here. I have learned a lot about myself through this duty station and am looking forward to getting involved in my next community even though I know that it will not be mine forever.


Here is the post:
I am a military wife - a member of that sisterhood of women who have had the courage to watch their men go into battle, and the strength to survive until their return. Our sorority knows no rank, for we earn our membership with a marriage license, traveling over miles, or over nations to begin a new life with our military husbands.



Within days, we turn a barren, echoing building into a home, and though our quarters are inevitably white-walled and unpapered, we decorate with the treasures of our travels, for we shop the markets of the globe.



Using hammer and nail, we tack our pictures to the wall, and our roots to the floor as firmly as if we had lived there for a lifetime. We hold a family together by the bootstraps, and raise the best of "brats," instilling in them the motto, "Home is togetherness", whether motel, or guest house, apartment or duplex.



As military wives we soon realize that the only good in "Good-bye" is the "Hello again." For as salesmen for freedom, our husbands are often on the road, at sea, or in the sky, leaving us behind for a week, a month, an assignment. During separations we guard the home front, existing until the homecoming.



Unlike our civilian counterparts, we measure time, not by years, but by tours - married at Knox, a baby born at Portsmouth, a special anniversary at Yorktown, a promotion in McDill. We plant trees, and never see them grow tall, work on projects completed long after our departure, and enhance our community for the betterment of those who come after us. We leave a part of ourselves at every stop.



Through experience, we have learned to pack a suitcase, a car or hold baggage, and live indefinitely from the contents within: and though our fingers are sore from the patches we have sewn, and the silver we have shined, our hands are always ready to help those around us.



Women of peace, we pray for a world in harmony, for the flag that leads our men into battle, will also blanket them in death. Yet we are an optimistic group, thinking of the good, and forgetting the bad, cherishing yesterday, while anticipating tomorrow.



Never rich by monetary standards, our hearts are overflowing with a wealth of experiences common only to those united by the special tradition of military life. We pass on this legacy to every military bride, welcoming her with outstretched arms, with love and friendship, from one sister to another, sharing in the bounty of our unique, fulfilling military way of life.